Page 4 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“No.” The word comes out flat and definitive.

Without missing a beat, Ethan plucks the paper out of my hands and tears it in half before throwing it in the trash bin beside his desk. His actions take me completely by surprise. “What are you doing?”

“You just told me they weren’t incompetent. I would rather believe you over that old pervert.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something almost respectful in his gaze. “It didn’t escape my notice that all the names on this list belong to women.”

I glance at the trash bin before turning my attention back to him, trying to process this unexpected turn. “Are you planning to make cuts?”

Ethan doesn’t respond immediately, walking to his chair and sitting down with the fluid grace of someone completelycomfortable in positions of power. Leaning back, he rests his chin on his fist and watches me with that same intense gaze that had once used to make my heart flutter like a trapped bird.

“Is it any of your business?” he asks coolly, but there’s a challenge in his voice.

“As the current head of HR, yes,” I retort, matching his tone.

“Ah, yes.” Ethan reaches for a paper from those scattered on his desk, and I notice his movements are deliberately slow, like he’s enjoying this. “I have your resume right here. Three years at Thalvyn Maritime. That’s impressive for someone so young.”

My stomach knots like a sailor’s rope. “Why do you have my updated resume?”

Ethan arches his brows, and there’s definitely amusement dancing in his amber eyes now. “You were kind enough to send one to Tech Invert Solutions this morning. It’s one of my companies. I assume you didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Or I wouldn’t have wasted that email,” I say tersely, feeling heat climb up my neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll rescind my resume from there immediately.”

I hold out my hand for it, but Ethan clicks his tongue in that patronizing way that makes me want to throw something heavy at his head. “What I want to know is why you’re sending out resumes in the first place. Are you thinking of changing jobs, Natalie?”

“It’s Miss Thorne, if you don’t mind,” I reply coldly, emphasizing each word.

“Miss Thorne.” Ethan’s eyes darken as he mulls over the name, like he’s tasting it. “I prefer Natalie. It suits you better.”

“I prefer not to be on a first-name basis with you, Mr. Wilder.”

“And that is still not an answer to my question.” Ethan’s tone becomes hard, demanding. “Are you applying for other jobs?”

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate, enjoying the way his jaw ticks.

“Why?”

Why does he sound so displeased?

“I know how acquisitions work,” I say coolly, crossing my arms. “Leaving a job in search of new opportunities looks better on a resume than being let go because of downsizing.”

Ethan studies me. “What makes you think I’m going to fire you?”

I meet his gaze squarely, refusing to back down. “Even if you weren’t, given our history, I don’t wish to work with you. I prefer a calm working environment.”

“Given our history?” The corner of his lips curls up, and there’s a flicker of heat in his eyes that makes my breath catch. “And what history would that be?”

“A stain on my past,” I reply flatly, each word carefully chosen to wound. “One I don’t care to be reminded of. You will have my resignation by the end of the day.”

I put the two files I had compiled for him on his desk with more force than necessary. “These are the lists of the actual incompetent employees. The files contain every bit of information on them, including their performance reviews and disciplinary actions. You can come to your own conclusions.”

Turning around, I begin walking towards the door. My hand has barely grasped the door handle when Ethan’s voice stops me in my tracks, low and commanding.

“Hold it right there.”

I want nothing more than to just walk out of this room, to put as much distance between us as possible, but the tone of his voice has me pausing against my better judgment.

Looking over my shoulder, I ask icily, “Is there anything else?”

Ethan gets to his feet, picking up a sheaf of papers before walking over to me with slow, deliberate steps. “Yes. The small matter of a contract you signed three months ago.”